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by baratheonrenly



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional, Love, M/M, Reunion, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 12:29:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11874465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baratheonrenly/pseuds/baratheonrenly
Summary: He needed to see him. Even if it was just to be screamed at, to be hit, to be absolutely hated. He needed to see him.Erik was suddenly startled out of his thoughts by the sound of glass shattering. Charles stood before him, staring at him blankly, blue eyes wide, his drink now a puddle spreading across the floor. His face was impossible to read, emotion everywhere and nowhere all at once. He remained silent, just staring. Any plans Erik once had about what he was going to say to Charles were gone, forgotten, replaced by a sharp pain in his stomach and a feeling as though all the breath had been knocked out of him. Seconds could have passed, minutes, hours, days.“Hello, Charles,” Erik whispered finally.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to kyra for reading parts of this and sharing her opinions w me, shes an angel whom i lov
> 
> yeah so this is the first thing ive written in a long long long time, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!
> 
> this takes place a few months after first class!

The first thing Erik noticed was his hair. Long and messy and so utterly unlike Charles, it shocked him. The last time he had seen him, his hair was parted and combed back perfectly, not a hair out of place. Now it was disheveled, falling down to his shoulders in loose waves that Erik had never seen when his hair had been short. For some reason, that hit him incredibly hard. He hadn’t known Charles had wavy hair. How could he not have known that? The countless times he had run his fingers through the soft dark strands, buried his face in them, and he hadn’t known.

He had allowed his facial hair to grow, dark stubble spreading across his jaw. Another part of Charles he had never seen. When he thought of Charles he thought clean-shaven. He thought of bare skin on the face his fingers would trail over in the night, when they were alone, looking into each others eyes. He thought of the soft, smooth feeling of the man he loved placing kisses over every inch of his body. Inadvertently, he found himself thinking of what it would be like to touch Charles’ long hair, to hold him close and kiss him and feel the stubble brush against his face. No, he thought firmly. No. That’s never happening again.

Noticing the rumpled bathrobe thrown over pajama bottoms and an undershirt, Erik wondered for a moment if he had just woken up. But no, he couldn’t have, it was the middle of the day and he had a drink grasped lazily in his right hand. He sat at his desk, gazing at the wall on the opposite side of the room, half turned away from where Erik stood silently in the doorway, taking him in before it all went to hell. He knew the moment Charles saw him, it would be over. He would have to face him only to be turned away again. The mere reaction from Hank when he saw Erik at the door told him all he needed to know. He almost didn't let him in, told him to leave Charles alone, to never come back. But he needed to see him. Even if it was just to be screamed at, to be hit, to be absolutely hated. He needed to see him.

Erik was suddenly startled out of his thoughts by the sound of glass shattering. Charles stood before him, staring at him blankly, blue eyes wide, his drink now a puddle spreading across the floor. His face was impossible to read, emotion everywhere and nowhere all at once. He remained silent, just staring. Any plans Erik once had about what he was going to say to Charles were gone, forgotten, replaced by a sharp pain in his stomach and a feeling as though all the breath had been knocked out of him. Seconds could have passed, minutes, hours, days.

“Hello, Charles,” Erik whispered finally.

Charles stood absolutely still for a moment, his face a mask, betraying nothing, before picking up a heavy book from the small table next to him and flinging it at Erik’s head with a yell. He missed, the book crashing into the doorframe, and that only seemed to make him angrier. With another shout, he shoved the table over, sending a lamp, books, pens, and papers flying across the room. Erik had never seen him like this, so out of control. He was the reasonable one, the calm, collected one that was able to calm Erik’s rage with a word, a touch, a look.

Charles straightened, chest heaving, his eyebrows drawn together and teeth clenched, and his eyes… the bright blue eyes that would shine when he looked at Erik, that would crinkle up when he made him laugh, that smiled when he did… any love and affection was absent, only fury and pain visible. They looked cold, dull, nothing like what Erik had known before. Erik opened his mouth to say something, unsure of what it was, when Charles cut him off.

“What… the _fuck_ … are you doing here?” he hissed, so quiet it was barely audible, but it filled the room, Erik’s body, his head, echoing around in his mind. 

What was he doing there? He knew Charles would hate him, would not want to see him, so why? Why did he come here? He didn’t have an answer, aside from the simple and stupid.

“I needed to see you,” he said weakly, overly aware of how pathetic he sounded.

Charles eyed him for a moment, silent again, before bursting into hysterical laughter. He doubled over, clutching his stomach. His entire body shook as he roared and wiped tears from his eyes.

Erik was taken aback. Of all the things he had expected, he never thought Charles would be so cruel as to _laugh_ at him. Charles had never, ever laughed when Erik expressed his feelings. Ever. He encouraged him to share them with him, all of them, no matter how difficult to admit. He always listened and accepted him, never mocked him. 

Feeling like the most foolish man in the world, he stood with his hands in fists at his sides, opening and closing his mouth angrily, unable to come up with words. His face burned, his heart felt as if it was going to burst out of his chest. Maybe that would be nice, he thought. Maybe then he could walk away feeling nothing for the man that changed his life, free from all the confusion and anger and regret he felt. Free from the pain. 

As a child, he'd always thought that the notion of love was a silly, make believe story people told themselves to feel better. In those stories, love was always described as the best feeling you could ever experience. And it was, parts of it. It was. But no one ever prepared Erik for how much the other parts would hurt. The physical pain he felt without Charles, the ache the memories brought, the utter emptiness in his chest when he thought of him. The bitter cold he felt at night without the familiar warmth of his body, the burning he felt in his limbs when he remembered Charles’ touch, the feeling that he was missing a part of his body essential to his survival, and was slowly dying without it. It hurt more than words would ever be able to explain.

Charles’ laughter was subsiding, and he stood wiping at his eyes until he was able to speak. “You needed to see me?” he repeated in sheer disbelief. A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob escaped his throat. 

“I…” Erik trailed off. He took a breath. “Yes!” He felt stupid, like a stupid child that didn’t know anything at all. He shouldn’t have come. He should have left well enough alone.

Charles squinted at him. “Why now, then?” he spat, taking a step forward. “Why, after months, have you finally decided I am _worthy_ of a visit from you?”

Unsure of what to say, Erik stood uncomfortably, feeling as though he didn’t know how to hold himself.

“It’s been months, Erik!” Charles shouted, moving closer. “Not even a fucking letter! Not one! Nothing! You could have been dead, for all I knew!”

“Wait,” Erik replied, brows furrowed. Charles couldn’t be angry because he hadn’t seen Erik since Cuba, no, he was angry that Erik had the nerve to come back, to face him. Wasn’t he?

Charles closed the space between them, shoving Erik violently. “I needed you, and you abandoned me!” Charles cried, voice breaking. Another shove, Erik’s shoulders slamming into the wall behind him. “I loved you, and you left me!” he screamed. Charles stepped back, eyes still locked on Erik. He was shaking now, his entire body, tears streaming down his face.

“Charles…” Tears stung at Erik’s eyes, and he brushed them away angrily. 

“Why did you leave me?” Charles sobbed, before breaking down completely. Erik couldn’t remember a time he’d seen Charles cry, not like this. The terrible choking sobs that wracked his entire body tore Erik’s heart in half.

Oh, no, he thought. No, no, no, no. How could he have been so wrong? All this time, he thought Charles was angry with him, never wanted to see him again. No, no, no. How could he have been so incredibly wrong? He didn’t hate him, he was hurt. Hurt because Erik had left him. No, no, no. 

Erik choked back a sob, clutching the sides of his head, fingers digging in painfully. His head was spinning, and the thoughts wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t leave him alone. For months, he had suffered without Charles, cried alone when thinking of how he must despise him after everything that happened, believing he never wanted to see Erik again. And the whole time, he was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Charles had been waiting for him, Charles thought he abandoned him, left him alone, tossed him aside without a second thought when he needed him most. He was in pain because of him. It was his fault, everything. How could he have messed things up so terribly? “I thought… I didn’t think… I thought you…” He couldn’t breathe, he had to pause between words and gasp for air. “I thought you hated me! I thought you never wanted to see me again! I didn’t just— I would never— I thought—“ He had to stop, clapping his hands tightly over his mouth to muffle the sounds of his crying.

He had always hated crying in front of people. It made him feel weak, small, worthless. Charles taught him that it was okay, it was okay to cry, and remembering those moments made him cry even harder then. When he woke screaming in the night, Charles would pull him close, hold him tightly while Erik pressed his face into his chest and wept. He would stroke his hair, kiss his head and whisper “It’s all right, love,” and “I know, darling,” until the violent sobs quieted enough for him to fall asleep again, arms wrapped around Charles’ waist.

Thinking of those nights sent a sharp pain through his chest, bringing him back to the present. Charles sniffled, wiping at his eyes and nose with the sleeve of his bathrobe. His breathing was shaky; he could burst into tears again at any moment.

“How could you possibly think that?” he asked, eyes welling up. “Erik?” 

Erik rubbed his eyes furiously in an attempt to stop the tears that just kept coming, seemingly never ending. “After everything that happened,” he started, putting an immense amount of effort into keeping his voice steady, “after everything I did, I… I thought you would absolutely detest me, I…” Any explanation he had before, anything he told himself, none of it made sense anymore.

“Erik,” Charles said, voice thick with emotion. “No matter what you do, no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I want to, I will never be able to hate you. Never.” Erik let out a sharp breath in surprise. “I’ve loved you since I pulled you out of the water,” Charles continued. “And I’ll love you until the day I die.”

A second passed, and Erik surged forward, taking either side of Charles’ face in his hands and crushing their mouths together for the first time in what felt like centuries. He pulled away just enough to breathe a quiet “I love you,” tears flowing freely between the two of them now. Charles’ breath was trembling, along with his hands as he reached up to gently brush a tear on Erik’s cheek away. He wrapped his arms around Erik’s shoulders, one hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down for more.

The kiss was frantic, desperate and hungry, stopped every few seconds for gasps of air and whispered “I love you”s and “I’m sorry”s with broken voices. Their mouths fit together perfectly, familiar yet new at once. Charles tasted like Charles, the same taste he had imagined and craved for months. It felt like the first time they had ever kissed, so needy and wild, both having wanted it for weeks. Their hands traveled quickly, desperate to feel every part of the other again. Erik’s hands slipped through Charles’ hair, passed over his chest, his stomach, his back, his waist, his hips. It wasn’t enough. Charles pressed against Erik with a frustrated sound, reaching down to his belt buckle. 

Erik gasped, covering the other man’s small hands with his own. “Charles,” he warned, but what he was warning him about he didn’t know.

“Please,” Charles said softly, leaning his forehead against Erik’s.

He nodded quickly after a moment, brushing their noses together. “Yes,” he whispered, still nodding. 

He pulled Charles back into the kiss, pushing the thin bathrobe off his shoulders as Charles fumbled with Erik’s belt and zipper. They stumbled, never breaking apart as they removed layers of clothing until there was nothing left between them. Charles stepped backward until his legs hit his desk, and pulled Erik down on top of him.

If there was a moment that Erik would remember until his final days, it was this. It was Charles beneath him, Erik’s face buried in his neck, feeling whole again for the first time in ages. It was Charles’ slender legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him in deeper, his arms tight around his back. It was murmured “I love you”s and sighs of the other’s name. It was the soft, quiet sounds Charles made that grew more insistent and urgent by the second. It was their sweaty foreheads pressed together as they neared the end, Charles’ back arching as his entire body tensed, loud cries muffled by their mouths pressed over each other. It was Erik resting his head against Charles’ pale, freckled chest as he caught his breath, it was Charles’ hands combing through his hair gently, it was the perfect silence after, their breathing the only sound to be heard. 

It was the moment Erik realized what home was.

**Author's Note:**

> deadass just realized i forgot to have charles explain how he was walking but im too tired to put it in so sorry pls ignore it


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